The Goverment Tea-Party
by DetectiveSilence
Summary: One-shot. Mycroft holds a minor position in the government, or so he claims. He is powerful, and untouchable. Or, so he thinks. Unfortunately, Mycroft has a weakness, and that weakness is cake...


**One-shot about cake. And Mycroft. It had to be done. It was fun.**

**Mycroft is at a tea party. With cake. And tea. But mostly cake. Mycroft loves cake, but naturally, Sherlock is looking for a way to get one-up on his annoying brother.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Mycroft, or Sherlock, or John, or the British Government. That is good news for you.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Because cake is cool, Mycroft is cool, and I'll take it as a sigh that sibling rivalry is something you want to see more of. Not enough people are beating up Mycroft.**

Mycroft looked at his plate and _smiled_. It was one of those strange genuine smiles that were even creepier than the smirks and sneers he gave on a more regular basis. Yes, Mycroft Holmes was smiling. He was wearing his work clothes: grey trousers, grey blazer, white shirt, and red tie. But he didn't mind, not today. No, because _today_ was the annual government _tea party_!

Cake, fine British tea, and traditional sandwiches (crusts off, _naturally_). What more could he ask for? He looked back at the delicious Victoria sponge on his decorative paper plate. The sponge was springy and moist, but not too moist. The homemade raspberry jam was rich and fruity, but not overpowering. The buttercream filling was light and creamy. The frosting was appealing but not too powdery. It was, as you would say, _perfect_.

He laid his fork down on the now empty plate, and dabbed the sides of his mouth with a napkin. He lay back slightly on his chair, and looked out of the window, at the gardens outside. For a second, he thought he saw the top of a bush of dark, curly hair, but it vanished instantly, and Mycroft came to the conclusion that it was never there in the first place. He decided that the Walnut cake that had just been introduced to the table was far more interesting than anything outside, and rushed over before it was gone. He was not the only one in the British government with a fetish for cakes.

After eating the Walnut cake slice, and the Lemon cake, and after finishing the last of the Chocolate Fudge cake, Mycroft sat down and took a sip of his drink. He put it down, and gazed out of the small side door to the gardens outside. He could swear, for an instant, that there was a tall figure standing at the door, watching him, but when he looked back, it was gone. Strange. But it didn't matter; there were plenty of reasonable explanations for this. He soon forgot about it, when someone announced that people could now go and take a piece of the famous Rainbow cake that had been the star attraction of the event for the last 3 years. There were only so many slices available, and he wasn't going to be the one to miss out.

Sherlock sauntered into 221B, smiling like a Cheshire cat. He waved a handful of pictures around, and walked over to where John was sitting, looking rather amused.

"What are you looking so happy about?" John asked, unable to keep a smile from spreading across his face. Sherlock's nice smiles, although rare, were highly contagious.

"Took some photos." Sherlock replied, sitting on the sofa and wafting the photos around, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"Of what?" John asked, leaning forward to see what was on the photos, but Sherlock snatched them back at the last second, so that he couldn't see what was on them.

"You'll never guess!"

"Hmm. We'll see about that."

"Bet you a fiver you won't guess."

John smiled, he was sure he could guess what was on those photos.

"Okay." He sat back and thought for a second.

"Are they… pictures from a crime scene?"

Sherlock giggled, and shook his head.

"No. No way near."

"Oh, okay. What about… pictures of Lestrade?"

"No, but you're on the right track."

"Um… pictures of Anderson?"

Sherlock grinned again.

"Nope, you've gone cold again."

"Hmm… so, are they embarrassing pictures?"

Sherlock's eyes held that wicked gleam that meant he was up to no good.

"Yes."

"Can you use then against someone?"

"Definitely."

John paused. He had no idea. Pictures of whom? And how had he got them?

"I don't know. I give up!"

Sherlock stood up, and passed the photos to John. He looked through the photos, a look of bemusement on his face. When he got to the close-ups of the persons face, he erupted in laughter, as did Sherlock.

"How did you get them?" he asked, through fits of laughter.

Sherlock smiled an evil smile. "Let's just say, I know people in high places."

And with that, they were laughing again. John had managed to fall off his chair, and was trying desperately to get up, but he kept doubling up with burst of random laughing.

The pictures were of a slightly chubby Mycroft stuffing his face with assorted cakes with the rest of the British government.


End file.
